Posts Tagged ‘Thanksgiving’

What’s For Dinner?

November 22, 2012

Hotel Witter – Demolished in 1950 (South Wood County Historical Museum)

What was served for Thanksgiving Dinner in 1929:

Wisconsin Rapids Daily Tribune (Wisconsin Rapids, Wisconsin) Nov 26, 1929

Cranberry Jell Easily Made by Newest Recipe

Use of Baking Powder Makes Less Sugar Necessary In Preparation of Sauce

With Thanksgiving close at hand the homemaker is thinking seriously of pumpkin pie and cranberry sauce. A new cranberry recipe made with Rumford all-phosphate baking powder is offered here.

Prepare as usual in proportion of one quart of cranberries to 2 cups water. Cook till berries are tender. If preferred clear, rub through sieve to take out seeds and skins.

Return to the fire adding to every quart of fruit 1 cup of sugar (instead of the usual two cups) and 1 level teaspoon of baking powder. Cook only till the sugar is dissolved. Chill before serving.

This cranberry sauce will be sweet and fresh-flavored with fine, clear color.

Note the great saving in sugar. Also consider the advantages in preparing fruit sauces with a minimum of sugar for invalids and children.

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Nov 14, 1932


From the Sheboygan Spirit: This hotel was built in the early 1890s and torn down in 1960.

What The Grand Hotel  served for Thanksgiving in 1946:

Sheboygan Press (Sheboygan, Wisconsin) Nov 27, 1946

Deep-Dish Cranberry Pie

3 cups cranberries
1 cup water
1 1/2 cups sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt

Boil the cranberries in the water until they “pop.” Add sugar and salt. Cool somewhat. Pour into a deep pie dish. Cover with a layer of plain pastry, fitting pastry firmly over edge of dish. (The pastry should be slashed to allow escape of steam.) Bake at 450 F. for 15 minutes.

Sheboygan Press (Sheboygan, Wisconsin) May 1, 1936

Cold Water Pastry

1 1/2 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup lard
4 to 6 tablespoons cold water

Cut lard into flour and salt until the crumbs are the size of dried peas. Add the water slowly, using just enough to make the dough hold together.

Roll on a floured board.

Sheboygan Press (Sheboygan, Wisconsin) May 1, 1936

Happy Thanksgiving!

Everything Cranberry

November 21, 2012

All images of cranberry workers from cranlib’s photostream on flickr

THE WINTER BERRY.

In cooking cranberries it is well to remember that they should never be put into a tin dish. Either agate or porcelain dishes should be used.

Cranberry Conserve. — Extract the juice from an orange, then cover the peeling with cold water and cook slowly until tender. Scrape out the white bitter part and cut the peel into narrow strips with the scissors. Simmer one and a half cups of raisins until tender; add the orange peel and the juice and a quart of cranberries. If needed, add more water to make a cupful of liquid. Cover and cook for ten minutes or until the berries are done. Then add two cups of sugar and simmer until thick.

Cranberry Trifle. — Cook a quart of berries with one pint of water until the berries pop open; rub through a sieve, return to the fire and add one pound of sugar. Stir until it is dissolved, then let boil two minutes; cool and beat until light with a wire egg beater, then fold in the stiffly beaten whites of two eggs. Pile in a glass dish and serve. Cranberry shortcake and cranberry pie are old favorites for desserts..

Baked Apples With Cranberries. — Select large, perfect, sweet apples, remove the cores and fill the cavities with thick cranberry jelly. Set the apples in a pan of water in the oven, and bake until the apples are done. Put each apple in a glass sauce dish and serve with whipped cream.

Cranberry Roll. — Cream two tablespoonfuls of butter, add a cup of sugar, a half cup of cold water and two cups of flour sifted with a tablespoonful of baking powder and a dash of nutmeg.  Beat until perfectly smooth, then add another cup of flour and roll out the dough to an inch in thickness. Spread thickly with jam or jelly, roll up closely, pressing the ends together. Lay on a plate and steam for three hours. Cut in slices and serve with cream.

Sheboygan Press (Sheboygan, Wisconsin) Dec 11, 1911

*     *     *     *     *

*     *     *     *     *

*     *     *     *     *

CRANBERRY COFFEE CAKE

1/2 pound cranberries
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 cup flour (bread)
1 egg
2 teaspoons baking powder
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup butter
2 tablespoons milk

Inspect and wash 1/2 pound of cranberries. Make a think syrup by boiling the sugar and water for 10 minutes. Add the cranberries to the syrup and simmer until they are clear and transparent. Pour this into the bottom of a cake pan. Mix the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt. Blend the butter with the dry ingredients. Beat the egg with the milk and add to mixture. Spread this batter on top of the cranberries and bake 45 minutes at 375 degrees. Cut in squares and serve with hard sauce. This amount will fill a pan 8 inches square.

HARD SAUCE

1/3 cup butter
1 cup confectioner’s sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla or lemon extract
2 tablespoons boiling water

Cream butter, add gradually while beating the sugar. Add vanilla or lemon extract. Beat gradually into the mixture the boiling water. This makes unusually fluffy and light hard sauce.

Sheboygan Press (Sheboygan, Wisconsin) Dec 7, 1935

Magic Cranberry Pie

1 1/3 cups Borden’s Eagle Brand sweetened condensed milk
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 cup Eatmor cranberry pulp, drained
2 egg yolks
Baked 9-inch pie shell of Krusteaz

Blend together sweetened condensed milk, lemon juice, cranberry pulp and egg yolks. Pour into baked shell. This pie may also be served with a meringue made of two egg whites beaten still and sweetened with two tablespoons of granulated sugar, browned in a moderate oven (350 degrees) for 10 minutes.

Oakland Tribune (Oakland, California) Nov 20, 1936

*     *     *     *     *

*     *     *     *     *

Cranberry Relish Right Complement To Turkey Dinner

By GAYNOR MADDOX
NEA Staff Writer

For brilliant color in the Thanksgiving menu serve this jellied cranberry molded salad:

Jellied Cranberry Relish Salad

Two cups fresh cranberries, 1 lemon, quartered and seeded; 1 apple, peeled, cored and quartered; 1 orange, quartered and seeded; 1 cup sugar, 1 package fruit-flavored gelatin.

Put cranberries and fruit through food chopper. Combine with sugar and let stand a few hours to blend. Prepare fruit-flavored gelatin as directed on package, reducing water by 1-4 cup; chill until syrupy. Stir into drained cranberry relish mixture. Fill mold and chill until firm. Unmold on lettuce or watercress and serve garnished with orange sections.

Or if you want your cranberries in the salad course, just combine pineapple and pears, bananas and walnuts, lettuce and watercress. top off with a generous handful of crunchy fresh cranberries for color and texture.

Finally — and what an old-fashioned and zestful end to the Big Meal of the Year — there’s cranberry pie.

Cranberry Pie

One recipe favorite pastry, 2 1-4 cups sugar, 1-2 cup water, 104 cup raisins, 2 cups apples slices, 4 cups fresh cranberries, 2 tablespoons cornstarch, 2 tablespoons water.

Roll out half pastry and fit into 9-inch pan. Combine sugar, water, raisins, apple slices and cranberries in saucepan. Cook until cranberries pop — about 10 minutes. Make a paste of cornstarch and remaining water, stir into fruit and continue cooking until thick and clear — about 5 minutes. Cool and pour into pie shell. Roll out remaining pastry and cut in strips. Arrange criss-cross fashion over top. Bake in hot over (425 degrees F.) 25 minutes.

Denton Record-Chronicle (Denton, Texas) Nov 16, 1950

*     *     *     *     *

Union in Thanksgiving

November 24, 2011

Union in Thanksgiving.

It was at a time when “union” as well as “liberty” was the watchword of our country, that the festival which is do distinctively American became more entirely a national affair. The incident which let to such a change of basis is thus described by the author of “Seward at Washington:”

One morning, early in October, 1863, Mr. Seward entered the President’s room and found him alone, busily engaged with a large pile of papers.

“They say, Mr. President,” he began, “that we are stealing away the rights of the States. So I have come to-day to advise you that there is another State right I think we ought to steal.”

Mr. Lincoln looked up from his papers with a quizzical expression.

“Well, Governor,” said he, “what do you want to steal now?”

“The right to name Thanksgiving day. We ought to have one national holiday all over the country, instead of letting the Governors of States name half a dozen different days.”

The President entered heartily into the suggestion, saying that he believed the usage had its origin in custom and not in constitutional law, so that a President “had as good a right to thank God as a Governor.” In fact, proclamations had already been issued by the executive after great victories, though the annual festival had always been designated by the Governors.

Mr. Seward drew from his portfolio the outline of such a proclamation, which they read over together, and perfected. It was duly issued, and since that time the President of the United States has always fixed the date for this national holiday.

Bessemer Herald (Bessemer, Michigan) Nov 23, 1895

Thanksgiving in the Far West

November 24, 2011

Oh dear, this would NOT make PETA happy:

THANKSGIVING IN THE FAR WEST.

On the ranches of the far West “turkey grabbing” is a prominent as well as wonderfully exciting sport. The turkey is buried in the ground with only his head and neck above the surface, allowing him full swing for dodging and ducking. The cowboy mounted on his pony sweeps down at full speed, and as he passes the buried gobbler leans far down and attempts to grab it by the head. Dragging the hand along the ground and grasping the neck is barred — the head along being the part to be grabbed. The successful turkey grabbers are few, and when an expert comes along he is the hero of the day.

Bessemer Herald (Bessemer, Michigan) Nov 23, 1895

The King, the Wife, the Dream

November 23, 2011

King Tuck’s Proclamation.

Thanksgiving! and with spirits blue,
Headless I’ve come to call on you;
Attend to what I have to say,
‘N let your appetite delay,
Knowing you’ve murder done most fowl,
Should my uneasy spirit prowl,
Greet not my shade with cruel sneers
If hollow the poor shell appears,
Void of all dressing, empty, thin,
It may in dreams come stalking in.
Now thankful for a speedy roast,
Good-by, I’m yours, sincerely most.

THANKSGIVING TURKEY, 1895.

Bessemer Herald (Bessemer, Michigan) Nov 23, 1895

A Thanksgiving Trill.

For all the joys of living
A long and sweet Thanksgiving!
For this old world, with roses rife,
For mother, friend, and sweetheart — wife!
For every soft wind blowing;
For fields where Love is sowing
The seed to blossom in the years —
For woman’s love and woman’s tears
That sweeten earthly living —
The heart’s divine Thanksgiving!

Bessemer Herald (Bessemer, Michigan) Nov 23, 1895

A THANKSGIVING SOLILOQUA.

M’ wife, she wants a winter coat,
And so do I.
An’ that’ll spoil a good-sized note,
(Though clothes ain’t high).
Then both the boys are wantin’ pants,
An’ I am, too.
An ordinary circumstance
The hull year through.

Kitty an’ Emmy want new shoes,
M’ wife the same.
Lord! it does give me the blues,
To set and name
The things ‘t I hev to go an’ buy
Day after day;
Don’t make no diff’rence how I try,
There ain’t no way

To keep from spendin’ all I git,
Or pretty nigh.
— I hev saved up a little bit
An’ laid it by —
An’ come to think, now, I dunno
‘S I oughter be
A setirh’ here a talkin’ so,
Especially.

Considerin’ the dreams I hed
The other night;
My young ones an’ my wife had fled
Out o’ my sight,
An’ Satan says: “Old man,” says he,
“you want ’em back?
Jump in that stream along with me,
It’s deep an’ black.”

“An’ you’ll hev to swim a hundred years.”
An’ with a yell
He dove into the stream o’ tears
An’ swam for — well,
I jumped in, too, or thought I hed,
But struck the floor
An’ found I’d jest jumpted out o’ bed
An’ nothin’ more.

I s’pose ‘t was eatin’ hot mince pie
That made me dream.
But still, there ain’t no doubt that I
Felt how ‘t would seem
To have no folks; and here I’ve sot —
Well, I’m no saint.
But I’ll offer thanks for what I’ve got;
That beats complaint.

— Smith, Gray & Co.’s Monthly.

Bessemer Herald (Bessemer, Michigan) Nov 23, 1895

Catchin’ Time

November 23, 2011

Thanksgiving in Old Virginia.

Old black mammy has a ‘possum on to bake
With sweet potatoes, sweeter than a maple-sugar cake.
And her pickaninny’s gone, by the light of the moon,
With his yellow-haired puppy to free a fat coon.

The coon lies a-grinning in the hollow of a gum
That the yellow-hammer uses for his morning drum;
While the gray squirrel chuckles, in high old glee,
At the hickorynuts a-raining from the hickorynut tree.
The gray owl shivers on a dead oak limb
And blinks in the sunshine, mellow and dim;
While molly-cotton rabbit gives a half a dozen hops,
And hears her heart beating, of a sudden, and stops.

The air is so fine and soft and clear,
That the fence seems far and mountains seem near;
Till the partridges fly to the fences and ‘light,
And call out a song about “Old Bob White!”

“Old Bob White, are your crops all right?
Is there wheat beneath the barn for the first cold night?
The guinea-hens and turkeys find its shelter mighty warm;
We’ll gather in among ’em when there comes a storm.”

The wild turkey’s calling from the far hillside;
The foxhounds are baying on the long divide;
There’s a fat pig squealing, for his life is sweet —
But not much sweeter than his sausage meat!

— John Paul Bocock.

Bessemer Herald (Bessemer, Michigan) Nov 23, 1895

RABBIT TIME.

Rabbit time, trappin’ time
Dat’s de time fo’ me.
Set mah trap
So hit snap,
Hide bein’ a tree.

Froo de snow, dar he go.
Rabbit jumpin’ past,
Gits de trail,
Wags his tail,
Crawls in — dat’s de last.

Wif a clap down hit dtap,
Rabbit caught fo’ sho’ —
In de jail,
Wif’ out bail,
Can’t git out no mo’.

Den a pie, rabbit pie,
Decked in gran’ array;
Jus’ fo’ two,
Me an’ you,
On Thanksgibbin’ Day.

Bessemer Herald (Bessemer, Michigan) Nov 23, 1895

Thanksgiving – by Elizabeth Akers Allen

November 24, 2010

In the pleasant days when we went to school
We read, in a well worn history book,
How, restless under a despot’s rule,
A band of pilgrims their land forsook,
And, crossing a wide, mysterious main
To a country strange and little known,
Began, with hardship and toil and pain,
The home and nation we call our own.

 

The tale rehearsed how they strove with fate,
They and their meek and patient wives,
And rose up early and labored late
To keep and comfort their lonely lives.
They felled the forests with fire and ax,
They dug and planted the rugged soil
And faced denials, and pinching lacks,
And constant danger, and ceaseless toil.

For nature met them with jealous mood.
She gave scant welcome to human schemes
Which tore the shade from her solitude,
And rent the forests, and dammed the streams.
Her Indian children had never dared
To spoil her shrines and to thwart her will —
The red man’s life was her own and shared,
Without a question, her good and ill.

 

With few of the helps we know today
To yield relief as the seasons rolled,
They paid the price that she bade them pay —
They gasped with heat, and they shook with cold.
The ills she sent them they grimly bore,
Yet none the less did that stubborn band
Hold fast to the stern, unpitying shore
Whereon their vessel had chanced to land.

One summer fiercely and long the sun
Had parched their gardens and scorched their grain,
And days and weeks had gone on and on
With never a sprinkle of saving rain.
The heat drank greedily all the springs
And dried the wheat ere the ears were filled;
It withered the corn to yellow strings,
And all the tenderer crops were killed.

 

And strongest spirits grew faint indeed,
Foreseeing nothing but want and woe,
Wasting hunger, and bitter need,
And actual famine with winter’s snow.
The preachers doubled their sermons’ length
And droned long chapters and prayed and prayed.
Yet, spite of their faith’s persistent strength,
Was every man of them sore afraid.

But when their courage was almost gone,
So deaf seemed heaven to their prayers and pain,
A cloud arose in the sky at dawn,
Dark and heavy with promised rain.
And when poured plenteously down at last
The crystal blessing denied so long
They changed the day from a gloomy fast
Into a service of joy and song.

 

And ever after their children, too,
And their children’s children after them,
With love and gratitude ever new,
Set one day separate, like a gem
Of purer luster than all the rest
In the golden round of the year of days,
When all might offer, as one, their best
Of true Thanksgiving and humble praise.

So let no spirit, though far apart
From happy fortune its path may stray,
Refuse to honor, with voice and heart,
The dear tradition we keep today.
For never a soul in all the earth,
In a hut or palace, in any clime,
But has some blessing or comfort worth
The giving thanks at this joyful time.

 

We who are happy, whose lot is crowned
With every favor that life can bring.
How can we fail, as the day comes round,
To offer thanks, to rejoice and sing?
We who are wretched, whose days are dark,
Void of all that can bless or cheer,
May still be glad, as its dawn we mark,
That rest and freedom are almost here.

For grain bins brimming with amber wheat,
And all the riches of harvest born;
For laden hives, with their burden sweet;
For heaps of fruits and for golden corn;
For bursting cotton and warming fleece;
For bleating flocks and for milky herds;
For home, for comfort, for thrift, for peace.
For kindly hands and for loving words;

 

For all the gifts of the teeming earth;
For every blessing the autumn sends;
For love, for pleasure, for tears of mirth;
For faithful hearts and for loyal friends;
For household circles still fond and whole,
Let every one in his own best way,
With grateful thought and with humble soul,
Yield thanksgiving and praise today!

 

The News (Frederick, Maryland) Nov 23, 1895

American Thanksgiving: Faith – Hope – Love and Squirrel Potpie

November 24, 2010

The New Era (Humeston, Iowa) Nov 22, 1893

Here is another Thanksgiving Day menu, this time from Newark, Ohio — 1888:

The most interesting thing on this menu has to be the Squirrel Potpie! Hm, “hunter’s style” — I wonder what that means? Fur and all?

The following quotes, unattributed, were also on the same page of the paper:

The richest and most envied man unshorn of his wealth of money, but deprived of all the common benefits which his poorest brother man enjoys as an in alienable right, would be poorer than the poorest pauper.

To express adequate thanks for all the blessings the average American citizen enjoys would require a whole week of steady gratitude.

All may give thanks who are stirred by thoughts of the betterment of the world and can rejoice at its continuous and increasing fulfillment. God reigns and God wills, and he neither reigns nor wills for naught.

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Nov 28, 1888

Humeston Gobblers

November 24, 2010

THE AMBITIOUS TURKEY.

“THIS vulgar old farmyard! It must be that I,
With my talents and beauty, was born to live high.
I’m tired to death of the meaningless clack
Of these ignorant fowls, with their ‘cluck’ and their ‘quack.'”
Thus mused a lone gobbler, the last of the brood,
As he eyed his companions in quarrelsome mood,
“I long for the cultured surroundings of town
And a share of the world’s goodly praise and renown.
I’m not a mere turkey, I’m almost a bird” —
And, suiting the action at once to the word,
He flopped his great wings in excitement and flew
Just a few feet in air when he lit in a slough.
“I’m almost a peacock,” undaunted he cried,
And down went his broad double-chin in its pride.
And then, with the rustle and stir of high birth,
He spread out his feathers for all they were worth,
And strutted and trilled in his voluble way
Till the awe-stricken poultry-tribe fled in dismay.

“Look, ma, that there turkey,” quoth old Farmer Brown,
Who appeared at this moment, “I’ll take right to town;
He’ll go like a hot-cake on Thanksgivin’ Day.
Come, git on yer fixin’s, and don’t yer delay,
I’ll give yer the proceeds to git a new hat —
A snug leetle mite, fur her’s oncommon fat.”
Such low, boorish jargon of course was not clear
To this elegant bird’s most fasidious ear;
So they trotted him off the the great distant town
Where a fashionable family gobbled him down, Admired and praised as the tenderest meat
It ever had been their good fortune to eat.
‘Mid “cultured surroundings” he melted away,
His dreams more than realized — King for a day!

JULIA H. THAYER

The New Era (Humeston, Iowa) Nov 28, 1888

Now for Turkey Jokes.

“Arn’t you afraid that you are living rather too well for your health?” asked the chicken.

“I ain’t in this for my health,” answered the turkey between the pecks. “I’m out for the stuff, so to speak.”

The New Era (Humeston, Iowa) Nov 25, 1891

The New Era (Humeston, Iowa) Nov 22, 1893

HOW TO CARVE A TURKEY.

Thanksgiving day draws on apace and already the turkey is stretching his joints to make them tough against the festival day. A few suggestions from one of experience in carving may prove beneficial to those who are more accustomed to the easy surgical work employed in carving a round steak, than in the physical dissection of gobblers. When the fowl is placed before you, assume a pleasing smile and a confident manner. It will inspire confidence in those about you.

Keep the turkey on the platter. It is not now considered in good taste to carve it on the table cloth, or to hold it firm with one knee. Should it slip from the platter into your lap, restore it to its place before continuing to hunt for the lost joint. As before suggested, however, it is best to keep the turkey on the platter while carving. The carving fork should be inserted firmly in the breast and it is considered preferable to steady the corpse with the forth rather than by grasping its neck. In the mean time, keep the turkey on the platter. The leg is fastened to the body by a joint. Hunt for it patiently.

Don’t try to cut the bone in two. Should the joint be refractory, quietly ask the hostess for a saw. Watch the fowl suspiciously, for in such a moment as ye think not, it will take unto itself wings and fly into your fair neighbor’s lap. At this point a humorous story, told in your most facetious vein, will help matters amazingly and leave the waiting guests in good spirits, especially if you keep the turkey on the platter. Dismember a wing or two. Bear down on the joint. If the thing slips and shoves the dressing over the edge of the platter, make light of hte incident as a common place matter, and tell about how you used to carve ducks years ago. Then go for the wish bone. Promise the young miss that she shall have the straddling thing to hang over the door. Keep on cutting; the wish bone is there somewhere. Gain time by discovering a side bone or two. But keep the wishbone in your mind’s eye.

If you should find it necessary to use your fingers to secure the bone, it is considered more polite we believe, to wipe them on the table cloth rather than to suck off the grease. It is, we understand, now considered decidedly proper to transfer the dismembered gobbler to the guests’ plates with a long fork rather than to use your fingers. But this is a mere matter of taste, a simple freak of fashion, as it were. By following this simple advise, it will be easy for anyone to carve the turkey, and we have only one parting suggestion, which is that in carving a turkey,it is now considered decidedly more dignified to allow the fowl to remain on the platter.

A.L. FLUDE.

The New Era (Humeston, Iowa) Nov 22, 1893

Family on Porch in Humeston, Iowa (Image from deadfred.com)

This family (unknown name) looks like they could have posed for this picture on Thanksgiving day.  Deadfred states this was taken in Humeston, Iowa, which, evidently, is pronounced Hum – es -ton, according to their rather impressive website. They have a nice promotional video for their town at the link. Looks like a quaint little town with beautiful scenery.

Thanksgiving Time

November 24, 2010

The New Era (Humeston, Iowa) Nov 21, 1894

And from the same newspaper, different year:

THANKSGIVING TIME.

Thanksgiving time’s a-comin — 1 in hear the gobble-gobble
Of the turkeys in the barnyard on the farm where I was born.
I kin see the Shangai rooster walkin sort of wibble-wobble,
Makin b’lieve he’s feelin sick and off his feed of yaller corn.

An they’re fixin in the kitchen fer a good old fashioned dinner,
Choppin mince meat by the bushel thetis good fer hungry eyes.
Seedin raisins fer plum puddin fit to save the vilest sinner
If he ever had a mother an she made Thanksgivin pies.

Ah, the mother, she’s a smilin, standin in the doorway, lookin
Down toward the railroad station when she hears the engine toot.
Fer her by is a-comin, and the pies most burn a-cookin,
While her dear old heart’s a-thumpin fer this worthless ole galoot.

Doesn’t ‘pear to matter nohow thet I’m balk and gittin gouty,
Doesn’t seem to make no diff’rence thet I smoke and cuss a bit,
She’s the same ole lovin; mother, never cross and never grouty.
An they’ll be no more Thanksgivin’s boys, when mother hez to quit.

— New York Sun.

The New Era (Humeston, Iowa) Nov 23, 1898